


practice makes perfect

by impsy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Drabble, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Guilt, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impsy/pseuds/impsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naomi doesn't care what Castiel wants. [8x17 "Goodbye Stranger" ficlet]</p>
            </blockquote>





	practice makes perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my [tumblr](http://twoboysanolddrunkandafallenangel.tumblr.com/post/45919500342/naomi-please-please-dont-make-me-begging). Everything hurts nothing is beautiful.

“Naomi,  _please_ , please don’t make me-”

Begging. That’s what you’re reduced to. In so much pain that you can’t even stand, your eyes squeezed shut, curled up in the fetal position on the floor. You can’t see her, but you know she’s there behind you, her displeasure radiating outward, sending white-hot agony through your nerves, your body alight.

“Do it, Castiel.”

You tighten your grip on the archangel blade but can’t, won’t, stand. As many angels as you’ve already killed, you would accept any punishment if you could just put it through her heart.

“Please. Not- not him.”

She doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s heard you, but the pain increases all the same, and you cry out and collapse to the floor, tears welling up from your eyes.

Heels click on the tile and Naomi reaches down to grasp your chin and yank your head up. “I’d forgotten that angels could cry,” she murmurs. “Open your eyes, Castiel.”

You won’t. You  _won’t_. Not when you know what you’ll see.

“Now, Castiel. Look at what you’ve done to him already.”

She forces your eyes open and there he is, laying on the floor, bloody and beaten and _broken_ , and you did that to him.

“Not Dean. Please, Naomi, don’t make me-”

“Finish it.”

Dean whimpers, his mouth moving in soundless pleading for mercy, for help, stretching out his hand toward you, even after all this, after everything she made you do-

“Put him out of his misery, Castiel.”

You can’t help the strangled sob, the sound of a broken man, as she yanks you to your feet, forces your arm and the blade up-

“Cas,” Dean whispers. “Cas, please-”

The blade arcs down, and there’s silence, blessed silence.

It gets easier after that.


End file.
